e consequences of which falsehood," continued the doctor,
"culminated in my asking Miss Lynden to marry me. . . . I've been
thinking--wondering--whether that lie was justifiable. And I've
given up the problem. But I respect your motive in telling it.
It's a matter for you to settle privately with yourself and your
Maker. I'm no Jesuit by nature; but--well--you've played a man's
part in the life of a young and friendless girl who has become to
me the embodiment of all I care for in woman. And I thank you for
that. I thank you for giving her the only thing she lacked--a
chance in the world. Perhaps there were other ways of doing it. I
don't know. All I know is that I thank you for giving her the
chance."

He ceased abruptly, folded Ins arms, and gazed musingly into space.
Then:

"Phil, have you ever injured a man named Eugene Hallam, Captain of
your troop in the 8th Lancers?"

Berkley looked up, startled; and the hot colour began to fade.

"What do you know about Captain Hallam?" he asked.

"Where is he?"

"Probably a prisoner. He was taken at the cavalry affair which
they now call Yellow Run."

"You saw him taken by the enemy?"

"No. I saw him--surrender--or rather, ride toward the enemy,
apparently with that design in mind."

"Why don't you say that Hallam played the coward--that he deserted
his men under fire--was even shot at by his own colonel?"

"You seem to know about it," said Berkley in a mortified
voice. . . . "No man is anxious to reflect on his own regiment.
That is why I did not mention it."

"Yes, I knew it. Your servant, the trooper Burgess, came to
Paigecourt in search of you. I heard the detestable details from
him. He was one of the detachment that got penned in; he saw the
entire performance."

"I didn't know Burgess was there," said Berkley. "Is he all right?"

"Wears his left wrist in a sling; Colles's fracture; horse fell.
He's a villainous-looking party; I wouldn't trust that fellow with
a pewter button. But he seems devoted to you."

"I've never been able to make him out," said Berkley, smiling.

The doctor thought a minute.

"I saw two interesting people at Paigecourt. One was Miss Dix, an
old friend of mine; the other chanced to be Surgeon General
Hammond. They were on a tour of inspection. I hope they liked
what they saw."

"Did they?"

"I guess not. . . . Things in the hospitals ought to go better
now. We're learning. . . . By the way, you didn't